


so give them blood

by unmatchedhellraiser



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unmatchedhellraiser/pseuds/unmatchedhellraiser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which "the other guy" is a little less big and green, a little more blood-soaked and mean. Bruce just wants to figure out how to control it, but Clint seems to have other ideas.</p>
<p>Could be continued or worked into a larger work at a later date. Meant to lead to eventual Bruce/Clint, but you can read it otherwise if you like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so give them blood

Bruce wakes up covered in blood that isn’t his own. He looks around at the carnage; it’s two men tonight, no older than twenty, their limbs twisted and their torsos ripped wide open. Blood pooling on the floor of the dark and presumably abandoned building.

It hadn’t always been this way. He had been Dr. Banner; he’d had a good job doing what he loved, living his life wholly for the enjoyment of his science. That hadn’t lasted long once he stopped showing up to work, started coming in haggard and bruised when he did show up. A colleague had made a joke about him joining fight club. Damned if he hadn’t been far off.

The first time it happened, Bruce panicked. He’d fallen asleep on his couch at home, reruns of some procedural cop show playing in the background, and then he was blinking into the light of the rising sun, blood on his hands and the body of a middle-aged woman lying by his side. He hadn’t known what to do, hadn’t known what happened. He didn’t know then that there was another part of himself who was capable—beyond capable, as he would later realize—of doing this sort of thing.

He had stared at the blood on his hands for a long time that first morning. He could barely bring himself to look at the corpse beside him, the feeling that none of it was actually happening too strong for him to let go of just yet. His eyes traveled from the blood covering his hands to the deep scratches on his arms, his own blood dried there and caked with dirt and gravel. He closed his eyes and stood then, not willing to take in the scene around him. He stood and walked and didn’t stop walking until he was in his apartment, stripping off his clothes, stepping into his shower.

(If he had been thinking clearly, he would have worried about his skin under the woman’s nails. Not that he needed to worry. The other guy had taken care of that. The woman’s fingers had been removed and discarded, slowly, one by one; a well-earned punishment for drawing blood with those talons. He’d smiled while he did it, taking vicious pride in his work while she screamed and bled, squirming underneath him.)

Bruce clenches his eyes closed for a second, taking deep breaths. He tries to calm himself even as the familiar stench of blood and bodies makes his stomach turn. Reliving what brought him to this point doesn’t help. What used to be doesn’t matter anymore. All there is is getting through the next day, cleaning up the next scene, trying to stay as below the radar as possible. He just has to keep calm until he can figure out how to beat this thing, how to control the other guy.

“Beautiful,” a voice rings out, breaking the blood-soaked silence. Bruce snaps into focus, startled, zeroing in on the man the voice came from. There’s some guy leaning nonchalantly on the far wall, gazing at the wreckage with some sort of dark excitement. Bruce watches warily as the man drops a cigarette to the floor and steps forward.

“Really, I admire your work,” the man’s voice echoes in the dimness of the room as he draws closer, “The brutality, the force. These two? Their mommas won’t even recognize them. Not my style, but damn can I appreciate it.”

Something about the way the guy walks sets Bruce on edge; cool confidence with an underlying energy, coiled under his skin like he’s ready to pounce. The way he holds himself as he walks through the bloodbath tells Bruce all he needs to know. This man knows blood, knows violence. Embraces it. A look on his face like he’s found a new playmate. And then he’s holding a hand out to Bruce, quirking an eyebrow in silent challenge.

After dealing with his.. the other guy for so long, Bruce can say one thing for himself: he’s not afraid of much. 

Bruce takes the man’s hand, letting him pull him to his feet. The guy smiles, gleaming and predatory, holding on to Bruce’s hand for a moment too long.

“Name’s Clint. And I think it’s about time we have some fun together.”


End file.
